by Wendy Vella
“No, Simon, please– Dear lord, we are here.” Every other thought slipped Claire’s head as the carriage slowed. She gripped Simon’s fingers hard.
“Take another breath, Claire, before you run out of air.”
“Of c-course.” She had not realized how quickly she was breathing. Inhaling, she released the breath slowly.
“Now here is what we will do, and I want you to listen carefully and make sure you do what I tell you.”
She nodded because she was sure if she spoke, her teeth would chatter.
“I will go into the Anchor first and ascertain if it is safe for you to enter.”
“Oh but-”
“No buts, Claire, you will do exactly as I say.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Simon stopped her from saying anything further by placing his hand over her mouth. “I will make a few discreet inquiries, and then, when I have the identity of the man we need to speak with, I shall come and collect you. Women like you are not seen in places like the Anchor, Claire, so we need to make sure you are in there no longer than necessary.”
She nodded, so he lowered his hand, yet the warm the imprint of her mouth remained on his palm. “I understand.”
“No you don’t, or at least, you don’t want to. Yet you will do this Claire, as it is for your safety as well as mine.”
“I don’t want you to put yourself in danger, Simon.” Her small fingers wrapped around his wrist as she leant forward. Her brown eyes searched his desperately.
“I won’t, and I have told you it is my choice to be here. Now be a good girl and keep out of site.”
She surprised him by placing her lips on his. The taste of her instantly filled his head, bringing back memories of her beneath him. Grabbing her shoulders, he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, forcing his tongue between her lips. He was too rough, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him close. He’d never wanted a woman the way he did Claire. She made his body burn with need, and he feared it was a fire that would never be extinguished.
“Be careful, Simon,” she whispered when finally, he released her. Her lips looked red and swollen, and something primitive inside him reveled in the knowledge that he had marked her.
“I will, and I promise to return to you soon.”
Simon spoke to his drivers before he made for the Anchor. “Miss Belmont is not to leave the carriage until I return, Merlin, no matter how persuasive she becomes. Is that understood?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Nodding, he made his way down the street towards the Anchor. The port was busy. There were noises and people everywhere. Rigging clanged, vendors hawked their wares, and children darted across the street between rolling barrels, carts and adults. It did not take him long to reach the Anchor. Once there he pushed open the door and walked inside.
The scent of ale and dried sweat greeted him as he entered the dark interior. The walls were covered with various items from ships, and the men inside were mostly sailors. Several ladies who were offering more than ale to the patrons walked among the men, displaying as much of their bodies as they could without removing their clothing. Simon made his way to the bar, where he bought an ale and looked around the room. He discounted most of the men he saw as people just biding their time before ships left the port, and then his eyes fell on a man sitting upright at the rear of the room. Taking a sip of his ale, Simon watched the man motion the woman who approached him away. He had no drink in front of him, and to Simon’s eye, he looked as if he was waiting for someone.
Removing a handful of coins from inside his pocket, he motioned the bartender closer.
“Looks like you’ve run into a handful of trouble by that face.”
Simon’s smile was feral. “Indeed, but the other man looks worse than me, it pleases me to say.”
The man ran his eyes over Simon, taking in the fine clothes, but said nothing further.
“The man sitting at the table in the rear–has he been here before?” Simon questioned, placing the coins on the bar.
“Every day at the same time for a week. Tight-fisted French sod, never orders a bleeding drink–just keeps his eyes on the door for a while, then leaves.” Pocketing the coins, the man left to serve another customer.
Drink in hand, Simon made his way towards the man. Once there, he pulled out the chair opposite and sat.
“I am waiting for someone, sir. Please leave.”
He wasn’t tall. However, his shoulders were muscled and his forearms beefy. His English was broken, so Simon answered him in French. “I would never have allowed my sister to travel here alone, sir, so you will deal with me or not at all.”
“Lord Belmont?” The man’s eyes gave Simon a calculating look.
“And you are?”
“Never mind who I am, only that I have something your family wants.”
Simon sat back in his chair and took a sip from his drink, trying not to wince. He would have preferred tea or coffee at this hour, and the glass had a salty taste to the lip that was not pleasant. “Why did you lure my sister into that lane?”
“We had the boy in London and had hoped to hand him to her before coming here to catch our ship.”
He was telling the truth, Simon thought. Still, he had to take precautions. “And how do I know you are not just trying to extort money from me? After all, there is obviously no child nearby.”
The man’s eyes darted around the room and then back to Simon. “My sister gave this to me on her deathbed. It’s a note from your brother, stating that if he did not return for her, then something must have happened, and if she ever needed help, she was to contact your sister.”
Simon took the note and read the contents. He had no idea if this was Anthony’s handwriting or not. Claire would know, however. Handing it back, Simon said, “So you are selling your sister’s child, now she has died? It warms my heart, sir, to see such family loyalty.”
The man’s fists clenched on the table at Simon’s taunt. “My brother and I have no place in our lives for a child!”
“So you are prepared to abandon it?”
The man had the grace to lower his head, but he said nothing further.
Simon heard the voices around them grow quiet and knew with a sinking feeling that Claire had entered the tavern.
“Your sister has arrived, my lord.”
“So it would seem,” Simon said, standing. “And I’m going to kill her,” he added softly as he caught her eyes. “Excuse me. I shall return shortly.”
She was standing beside Merlin, who, in turn, was looking at Simon with a desperate expression on his face. Men were closing in on her, but whatever expression was on his face was sending them away without a word. “You promised me, Claire.”
“You did not return, and I grew worried.” His anger did not seem to scare her, as it did the men.
“God, woman, you would try the patience of a saint,” Simon hissed, taking her arm and hauling her into his side, thereby declaring she belonged to him. “And you were given orders not to let her leave the carriage, Merlin,” he added, turning on his driver.
“It is not his fault, Simon. I told him I needed to have some privacy, if you know what I mean.”
“She was right convincing, my lord. Ben held the horses whilst I accompanied her, and then she picked up her skirts and ran across the street towards the Anchor.”
Merlin should have been outraged by Claire’s actions. Instead, Simon could
see only admiration. Resigned, Simon looked down at the woman at his side. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Is the man you were talking to the one, Simon?”
“Yes, and he believes I am your brother, so play along. In his possession is a letter he states is from Anthony. You will ask to look it over and then confirm it is your brother’s handwriting. Merlin, stand at our rear whilst Miss Belmont and I go and talk to the man.” His driver mumbled his agreement, and they made their way back across the room
.
“This is my sister, Miss Belmont. Claire, this man has not furnished me with his name.” She sat in the seat Simon held out for her.
“My brother has informed me you have a letter from Anthony, sir. I wish to see it, if you please.” The hand she held out shook slightly and then steadied as she began to read. Simon watched as her eyes followed each word. She then folded it precisely and handed it back to the man. “Your sister obviously meant a great deal to my brother if he wrote that note for her.”
Claire’s confirmation of the authenticity of the note told Simon that if there was a child, then it was possibly Anthony’s.
“My sister gave her favors too freely,” the man growled and then spat out a foul curse.
“I would ask you to watch the way you speak in front of my sister, sir. Our brother meant a great deal to us, and I will not have his name blackened.”
He was not foolish enough to antagonize Simon further, so he clamped his mouth into a grim line.
“Now as I’m sure you will not just hand the child over without payment, how much do you want?”
The man’s eyes darted from Claire to Simon before he spoke. “My brother and I want money for our future, and in case we get hurt and can’t sail no more.”
“How much?” Simon put his hand over Claire’s as her fingers clenched. The man told him an amount that was high but not excessively so. “I will not give you a penny until I see the child.” He squeezed the hand beneath his as it tensed.
“I want half now.”
Simon stared at the man silently for several seconds and hoped Claire would hold her tongue, too. “Not a penny until I see the child, and then you will have it all.”
“I want half now.”
“Then we have nothing further to say to each other.” Simon said, regaining his feet and lifting Claire from her chair.
“Simon.” He could hear the desperation in that single word, but he held strong.
“Trust me,” he whispered, propelling her forward. They made it to the doorway before his voice reached them.
“All right, I shall bring the child here in one hour. We will meet down by the the Bonny Rose.”
Simon simply nodded and walked Claire through the doorway, with Merlin now at their heels.
“It’s all right,” he soothed, placing an arm around her waist. “It will be over soon.”
“Do you think Anthony cared for that woman and that is why he left her the note, Simon?”
All around them, noise sounded, people brushed by, but he was as focused on her as she was on him. “I’m sure he did, Claire.”
Simon saw a tearoom, and, ushering her inside, he motioned for Merlin to come, too, and then ordered food and drinks. Simon watched her as they ate. She did not speak, and her eyes kept looking to the tall masts in the distance. As the minutes ticked by, her pallor increased.
“Simon, what if the child is not Anthony’s?”
“You’ve just endured possibly the most trying three days of your life during which you’ve told me constantly that it is, and the note confirmed your brother knew the woman, so why, suddenly, do you think it isn’t?”
Her eyes were shadowed with uncertainty. “Doubts are suddenly plaguing me, now the time draws close. Doubts that I am doing the right thing, doubts that I will never know if the child is Anthony’s.”
“You’ll know.”
“If someone sees us or hears of the time we spent alone, I will be ruined and your name will be blackened, Simon. Please, dear lord, let my niece or nephew be waiting for me so I may confirm, if only to us, that what I have done is the right thing.” Her face was pinched and her eyes shadowed as she spoke.
“Don’t lose your courage now, Claire–not when it has carried you so far. I admired your strength before this journey, and my admiration has increased tenfold since.”
She offered him a tremulous smile and then fell silent again. He looked at his watch and caught his coachman’s eye. “Merlin, now you’ve finished eating every crumb on the plates, I would like you to bring the carriage as close to the ship named The Bonny Rose as you possibly can.”
“At once, my lord.”
“It is time for us to leave now, Claire.”
Simon watched as she opened her reticule and handed him a purse. “This is for payment, Simon. It is not quite enough, as I had to use some–”
“To flee from me in the middle of the night,” Simon said.
She gave one abrupt nod before continuing. “So if you could see your way to paying the rest, I will repay you when I return to London.”
Simon took the bag and counted the money, adding some of his own before closing it. He then stood and held out his hand. She clutched it, and together they walked down towards the boat. He was getting used to the feel of her hand in his.
They heard gulls, and the tang of the sea air surrounded them as they strolled down to the ship. Other people passed, and Simon doffed his hat while Claire forced a smile onto her stiff face, and then the ship was before them, tall masts rolling gently from side to side.
“Do you see him, Claire?”
She followed his gaze and then came to a sudden halt as her eyes fell on the small child standing beside the man they had met in the Anchor.
“Oh lord, he has Anthony’s hair, Simon, almost the same color as mine.” She started walking again. However, now she was dragging him. Her strides were long and hurried as she closed the distance in seconds. The man saw them coming and bent to whisper something in the boy’s ear. The child, in turn, moved away to stand with two men at the foot of the gangway leading up to the Bonny Rose.
“You have seen the child. Now hand over the money.”
“I want the letter, too,” Simon said, holding out the pouch. The man pulled the letter out of his pocket and passed it to him. He counted the money and then signaled for the boy to be brought forward.
“This is your aunt and uncle, Louis. You will be going with them now.”
Another man placed a small bag at the boy’s feet, and then they all left without another word, climbing the gangway. There was no hug or brief word or pat on the head from the boy’s real uncle. The man had left his nephew alone with two strangers without a backward glance.
The breath caught in Claire’s throat as Louis looked up at her. It was her brother’s face and brown eyes that stared back at her. Fighting tears, she dropped to her knees before him and smiled. Dear lord, if she had not come, what would have become of this child? Her heart ached for him as he waited silently to find out would happen to him next. Claire did not know many children, yet the ones she did know were continually moving, talking, or crying. This one, however, was solemn and still. Tentatively, she took one of his small hands in hers. He didn’t flinch, which she hoped was a sign that he had not been mistreated.
“I understand you are scared, Louis.”
“He will only speak French, Claire.”
She gave Simon a grateful smile before continuing this time in French. “I understand you don’t know me or this man beside me whose name is Simon, yet I want you to know we will never hurt you. I am your aunt, Louis, and I want to care for you, if you will let me.”
He didn’t move, just studied her with that emotionless expression. He had not been starved, as he was healthy enough to the eye, nor were his clothes ragged. However he needed both a wash and a comb, as he smelt of fish and his hair was matted. She wondered who, besides his mother, had hugged him and kissed his soft little cheeks. Had anyone wiped his tears when he cried or sat him on their laps?
“Will you come with us, Louis, for a ride in a carriage?”
Simon lowered himself to his haunches beside her. “Hello, Louis. Are you hungry?”
Claire smiled as the little boy nodded. Simon knew the exact thing to say to make the boy feel more comfortable. It was a trait of his, the ability to weigh a tricky situation and then take the measures necessary to resolve it.
“Come, then, and we shall fill that little belly of yo
urs.”
She held her breath as Simon reached for the boy, his hands lifting him high to settle Louis against his shoulder. Standing, he turned to her.
“Come on, Aunty Claire. Louis and I are hungry.”
Hurrying to her feet, she took the hand Simon held out to her. She had never really liked to be touched, and yet now she found that she liked it very much. Well, what she actually liked was Simon’s touch. Picking up Louis’s bag, she let him and Simon lead her back up the hill to the carriage. As they arrived, she turned for one last look at the ship that had brought her nephew to her, and it was then her eyes fell on the couple walking towards them. “No!” she cried out softly.
Simon turned to see what had disturbed her and then cursed softly. She watched him quickly place Louis in the carriage. “Louis, please wait in the carriage while your aunt and I purchase you some food.”
Relieved, Claire watched as the boy climbed onto a seat, eyes wide as he looked around the elegant interior. Simon then closed the door before turning to face the couple heading their way. “Smile, Claire, and walk with me away from the carriage. Slowly,” he cautioned her as she began to hurry.
“Lord Kelkirk, Miss Belmont, this is a surprise.”
Claire tried to look pleased to see the couple now before her when she was anything but. The Countess of Tinley was a gossip, and by the look in her eye, she knew she was about to get a juicy tidbit.
“What has happened to your face, my lord?”
“An altercation with a pickpocket, I’m afraid. However, no lasting damage has been done.”
“You must tell me what has you both here…alone?” the countess cooed.
“Good morning, Lord Tinley,” Simon said, ignoring the countess’s question to acknowledge her husband.
“Kelkirk.”
“My lord, I must insist you tell me what has you both here in Liverpool alone?”
“We are not alone, Countess. Miss Belmont’s maid is accompanying my aunt while she looks in some of the shops,” he said waving a hand to the left where the shops were. “Miss Belmont and I are taking a walk before collecting her and continuing on our journey.”
